


Magic in the Air

by LadyLoec



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, MAAS Sarah J. - Works
Genre: Dream Sex, Dreamwalking, F/M, POV Feyre Archeron, Porn With Plot, Possession, Sex Magic, Smut, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2019-03-21 11:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13739886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLoec/pseuds/LadyLoec
Summary: Feyre is having recurring dreams of her and Rhys' first meeting at Calanmai, but she makes things go differently with a little help from Amren. The natural order of things is disrupted, but not without some unintended consequences. About 50/50 smut/story.





	Magic in the Air

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies in advance if formatting goes a little wonky on this one - couldn't get it to paste over properly. Hope you enjoy regardless!

"There you are. I've been looking for you." His voice was warm and erotic and poured into me like honey. Ever since Rhys had told me his perspective of that first night we had met, it had come to me in my dreams over and over. Each time was the same - I saw everything exactly as it had happened, through my own eyes, but wasn't able to change anything. I would scream at myself, beg my human self to realise - to comprehend that he was my mate. But the scene would play out exactly as before, and I would be powerless to change things.

 

My eyes were closed and I could focus on little other than the warm body pressed behind me. The tang of magic was thick in the air and it was as if my every sense was ablaze - the embroidered fabric of his pants and tunic was rough under my fingers and his smell was intoxicating: Citrus, the sea, smoke from the Calanmai bonfires. I could have drowned in my own senses. I barely heard the words as he dismissed the three faeries, busy taking in the sound of his voice, feeling the rumble in his chest as he spoke, dismissing the lesser fae. It couldn't have felt like this when I was a human, could it? How did I even get a word out?

 

I was so lost in the moment that it took me a while to realise... My eyes weren't closed the other times - in fact, I hadn't been able to stop gawking in terror at those picts. This was different. I tried to move my hand and was startled to find that it obeyed - brushing against Rhys' thigh. I felt a dulled sense of his surprise down our nascent, unproved mating bond.

 

I reluctantly pulled out of his hold and turned to face him. I was so used to seeing him with my enhanced fae sight that to see him through human eyes again was incredibly strange. The black of his tunic somehow wasn't as black, and the night trailing from him lacked the majestic and powerful depth I was now used to. And those eyes... I had forgotten that to a human, they beheld at once the beauty of wondrous galaxies and the promise of nighttime pleasures.  Somehow, his face and his body were even more breathtaking despite my dulled senses. Whilst my memories and thoughts were mine, I must have retained my human perspective. With slight sadness, I noted how pale his skin was: The Rhys in front of me had scarcely seen the sun for fifty years.

 

He eyed me with curiosity. If I didn't know him as I did, I would have believed his confident and intimidating mask, wouldn't have noticed the little tells that said he was nervous: His overzealous swagger, the hands in his pockets to hide his propensity to fidget, the smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What's a mortal woman doing here on Fire Night?" It was as if we were acting in a play and Rhys was reading his part. But now I wasn't sticking to the script. I let one of his trademark smirks play on my own lips. This was going to be fun.

 

I recounted a line he would later say to me if our little exchange had gone as usual: "Because all the monsters have been let out of their cages tonight, no matter what court they belong to. So I may roam wherever I wish until dawn".

 

A soft, lover's laugh concealed his surprise. He brought his gaze up to meet mine - I did not shrink from it, as he would no doubt anticipate. "And where, my beautiful monster, might you wish to roam?"

"I wish to roam a great many places. If I had wings, I could caress the skies. I could fly to Adriata and watch the ocean crash upon the shore, or skate upon the great frozen lakes of the Winter Court," his countenance still betrayed nothing to the untrained eye - I'd have to push harder: "Or I could watch the sun rise over the Rainbow of Velaris with you, Rhys."  
  
He was on me in an instant, his calm demeanour shattered as he pinned me by my throat to a tree with a protective fury. "Who are you? How do you know of Velaris?" I could feel his talons scraping at mental walls he was clearly not expecting to find, desperate to find purchase and pull what I knew from my head (even as a human I had managed to form those walls - I wondered if that was because my mind was my own even if my body was not). I had no chance of fighting him off in this form, and obviously no magic as it had not been gifted to me yet. I wasn't even sure I could speak with his hands compressing my throat, but I had other weapons in my arsenal. I reached for that echo of the bond between us and sent down it as loudly as I could the music he had gifted me (or would gift me? Trying to get my head around the tenses was going to give me a headache) in my cell Under the Mountain. I weaved into that symphony the feel of wispy clouds tingling on sensitive Illyrian wings, and the image of my hands painting the night sky that I had once sent him by accident, and hoped that some element of it would get through.  
  
He released my neck and stepped back like he'd been hit by a wagon. Tears might have been forming at the corners of his eyes. How long had it been since he'd heard or felt those things?

"Who are you?" he asked again, his voice a quiet plea.  
"You will call me many things in time. You once even call me your salvation. But for now, let's go with Feyre."  
"Feyre" he tasted my name as if it was an answer to another question entirely. "How..."   
I cut him off when I spotted Lucien approaching (right on schedule). "We don't have time for questions." I offered him my hand. "Winnow us somewhere - now." I must have shown him enough that he either trusted me or knew he had to find out how much I knew before he killed me, as he dutifully took my hand and night folded in around us.

 

As we materialised, I could smell the sea and hear waves crashing below me. We must be atop a coastal cliff. The climate hadn't warmed or cooled any, which told me we must still be in Spring territory. With Rhys' powers dulled by Amarantha's spell, I wondered if he couldn't winnow us further.   
"It's not Adriata, but I hope it's to your liking" Rhys drawled. Obviously he'd regained some of his composure.  
  
It was a peaceful place. Behind us stood a decaying structure that might have been a temple once, though now parts of it were open to the elements, and the relentless tide of Spring growth had invaded it's inner sanctum, carpeted with ivy, soft moss, and night blooming jasmine. It thankfully bore no resemblance to the meaningless opulence of Ianthe's place of worship. Despite it's decrepitude, this place thrummed with power - the power of Fire Night, I realised.  Though we were miles from the nearest celebrations, I could still feel the drumbeats under my skin like a second pulse. I wondered if I could feel the magic because it recognised me as a future High Lady. Flickers of flame danced inside the temple, casting dancing shadows on the remaining walls and columns, as if whatever magic stirred tonight had awakened this sacred place as well. Perhaps Rhys had been called here by that power. I turned to him and took a brazen step forward until I was pressed against him and felt his body stiffen at my touch. Not discomfort at the unexpected closeness of a stranger, but like he was fighting a summoning in his blood. As I'd hoped then: Calanmai was calling him, too. I stood on my tiptoes, breasts brushing his chest as I rose and leaned to whisper against his lips. "There's no place I'd rather be". He growled and his eyes flared. He was holding on to his self control by a thread. Good.

 

I stepped away and he seemed to lean into me as I did, trying to prolong the contact. The air felt chill against my chest, now parted from his. I turned and walked towards the temple, unlacing and shedding my constricting Spring Court dress as I went, and abandoning my shoes to feel the coarse shale turn to soft moss under my feet.  
"What are you doing?" He asked, almost breathless despite standing still. I was infinitely amused at the curiosity I sparked in him, and knew that he had once seen the same in me. I turned briefly and smiled back at him. "Hunting" I said, before returning to the task at hand. I slipped into the shadows and waited for him to follow.  
  
The inside of the temple was much as it had appeared from outside. There was shelter enough from the cool coastal breeze, and the flames in the braziers kissed the chill from the night air. As if by magic (well, definitely by magic), a ceremonial athame sat atop the cracked altar stone. It gleamed as if forged anew, untouched by the ravages of time that had wrought their havoc on the rest of the temple. I stepped toward it and picked it up - it felt cold and heavy against my human hands.  
  
I hadn't heard his approach, but he was close enough that I could feel his breath in the air by my cheek. He stood behind me and put his hands over mine, pinning them to the altar, one hand still on the knife.  
"And what might a mortal woman... apologies, _monster_... be hunting on Calanmai?" He asked, his lips a hairs breadth from my ear. The warmth of his breath and the rumble of his voice jolted straight down my spine to my stomach. Lower.  
"Do you trust me?" I asked  
"Trust you?" He laughed softly, incredulous, backing away a step. He had taken the athame from my hand. "Why in the world would I..."  
I interrupted again. "Do. You. Trust. Me?"  
Rhys considered for a moment, and was clearly surprised at his own answer. "Yes".  
I held out my hand to him. "Then give it to me".  
His eyes never left mine as he extended his right hand. I took the knife from him, but as he went to withdraw, I pulled his hand back toward me. I held his gaze as I trailed the blade over his palm - his expression remained neutral as his blood coated the knife. I took his other hand and placed the athame in it, my own right hand guiding it as it drew across my left palm (slightly less deeply than I had cut his - I would heal more slowly, after all). I couldn't help but wince a little at the pain, but brushed it aside. I turned our cut hands over, interlacing our fingers as I pushed the heels of our hands together, forcing blood to flow from us both. To drip softly to the temple stones.  
  
Everything quieted. The wind, the waves, the crackling of the braziers, even the phantom drums went silent, and all I could hear were our heartbeats. His eyes flared with understanding and he quickly withdrew his hand and backed away until he was resting against the altar, stemming the flow of his blood as if that would undo what had passed.  
"Feyre, you don't understand what you've done" he was panicked now, his eyes darting around us as understanding of the blood sacrifice had dawned. We had called the magic of Calanmai to us - denying Tamlin his spoils and stealing them for our own. What the other High Lords did on Fire Night was usually an echo of that which was born of Spring, but now... this would be no echo. Rhys was a gentle creature made into a thing of nightmares by circumstance: He didn't know me, didn't recognise me as his mate, but he was still afraid of hurting me.  
"Don't I?"  
The ritual was old, as old as Fire Night itself, and had been all but forgotten... Except by one tiny, ancient, jewel-obsessed being, who talked too much now that she could drink brandy instead of blood. She had caught me late one night reading up on Calanmai lore, woken again by my persistent dreams, and had taught me a few things.   
"The magic... It won't be me... I can't..."   
His panic crested as green and white swirls of bright light erupted from the ground, writhing around him. The magic flowed into him and his eyes met mine once more before it took hold. I made sure he was focused on my eyes again before I said "I trust you, Rhysand".  
I felt a crack that might have cleaved the world apart - the settling of a mating bond, if I wasn't mistaken - just before the green light of the magic was swallowed by the violet night in his eyes, and Rhys (well, the one I knew at least, the one I could predict) was gone.  
  
In his place... A predator. He rolled his shoulders as if adjusting to a body that no longer fit him. Raising his arms behind his head like he was stretching, his tunic ripped and fell away with the motion as his wings burst free and unfurled at his back. His wings were painted with inky black whorls that joined seamlessly with his Illyrian tattoos before continuing across his chest, down his stomach, and dipping below his waistband. I'd once wondered who had painted Tamlin that night (this night, I reminded myself), but apparently it was a side effect of the magic - perhaps an illustration of the bargain struck with nature itself for that single night. Rhys' skin glowed like starlight, those painted patterns and the raven black halo of his hair stark against the light he exuded. He looked like the avatar of some forgotten god, no resemblance to the pathetic savage Tamlin had been.  
  
His eyes were closed and his nostrils flared slightly as he scented the air - scented me. He inhaled deeply like my scent was a heady perfume, and his eyes darted to take me in. His pupils were wide and black as if he was drunk on the stolen power swimming inside him. I can't have been much to look at - brassy hair a mess from winnowing and the humid sea air, dress and shoes long since discarded, dull human skin goose-pimpled from standing only in my thin shift, but his gaze was ravenous. In that moment, he was desire and need and nothing more.  
  
The hunter that both was and was not Rhys prowled in my direction. Although he was the embodiment of primal desire, he was also in no rush. Maybe his predatory nature was relishing the seduction - the hunt. I considered running, just so he could catch me, but primeval magic or not, human or not, I was his equal - as much the huntress as he was the hunter. Now was not the time to let him forget it. I stood my ground and did not tremble before him. I let my gaze trail across his body as his had across mine before forcing myself to meet his stare. Were we animals, this would be where we contested dominance. He was now close enough that we could almost share breath, and still I didn't avert my eyes. His canines had elongated slightly, but other than that his bestial form was nowhere to be seen. He lunged for me and I almost flinched at the roughness of it, but he stopped, instead pulling back his hand and assessing the healing cut there. Did he remember? A soft sheen of sweat coated his body. The strain of fighting what was inside him, I realised. He was fighting it, even now, when he knew I had made this happen, when there should be only the barest sliver of him even in there, he feared for me. He reached again, gentler this time, for my left hand, and saw the twin to his wound there. My senses almost overwhelmed me as he traced around it with his fingers - traced... Not possible. He was tracing my tattoo. The tattoo that didn't exist yet. The one that marked me as High Lady.  
  
Those wild eyes met mine again - the eyes of the hunter that at once was and was not my mate. He only said two words, but they said everything they needed to. Half snarl, half lover's  whisper: "You're mine."  
  
His kisses were rough and hungry and insistent, like each one was claiming more of me as his. He pushed against me with unyielding hands as my back collided with one of the supporting stone pillars holding the old ruin together. The force of it shook the pillar, but it held firm and I was unharmed. He moved his mouth to my neck, those sharp canines dragging on my throat while his hands tore at my shift, craving the feel of my skin. One hand was behind my back where it had arched away from the pillar, and the other was roaming up my side. He pushed a firm, demanding kiss into the hollow between my neck and collarbone and I let out a deep moan. At that sound his head snapped back up to look at me again and the unrelenting lust in his eyes burned like a brand against my skin. He ran a rough hand over my nipple and I pushed off against the pillar to press harder against him, feeling his hardness against me. An unearthly snarl came from him at my resistance to his control and his hand came away from my back, swiping the pillar away like it was a muslin cloth. It toppled to the side and exploded into a cloud of dust as I fell to the floor, the soft moss cushioning my landing with him on top of me.  
  
The hand that had been against my back was now fisting in my hair, pulling my head back so that his mouth and teeth could continue that bruising, rapturous exploration of my throat. I impatiently curved my chest towards him to tempt his mouth towards my breasts, reaching to caress the arch of his wing with my other hand, but he was having none of it. He didn't stop even as his left hand moved instantly to clamp my shoulder down, while his right latched around my other wrist and held it firmly above my head. His thigh pushed between my legs and a sob escaped me at the new source of friction at the apex of my thighs. I moved myself against him, desperate for to relieve the ache there, and swore when he pulled back. His hand let go of my wrist and moved down between us, and he growled hungrily at the slickness there, but didn't tease me as he normally would, instead simultaneously putting instant pressure exactly where I wanted it while clamping those sharp teeth down on my throat. His other hand still held my shoulder firmly to the floor as I shook, stars exploding in my eyes as I climaxed. But he was barely getting started. In a moment of clarity before the ecstasy took me again, I wondered if he granted my release only to stop me from interfering in his attempt to lose himself in me. After all, this was no longer Spring's ritual of bounty, but a new dance of creation and destruction wrought by night's unholy power. A beautiful and terrible corruption of the magic of Calanmai.  
  
My philosophical interlude was broken by the feeling of teeth gently caressing my nipple as his fingers slid inside me. My hands were free and I abused the privilege greedily, one hand twisting in his hair and the other running nails down his back. He moaned - deeper and more primal than I'd heard him. I couldn't reach his belt as he was moving down, pressing his lips against my chest, my stomach, along the line on my hip bone, and lower.  
  
I could die from this. We could ravage one another until time stood still and the world ended.  
  
His hunger for me was insatiable and I was sure my cries could have been heard throughout Prythian as he built me to another crest. The sensation almost too much, blurring the lines between pleasure and pain until I wasn't sure if I wanted him to stop now or never to. Those power- and lust- addled eyes glowed as they met mine as he still licked me and fucked me with his fingers and I went over the edge again.

 

He prowled slowly on all fours back up over me, only I was done waiting for him. Only Rhys could be possessed by powerful magicks whose only intent was to ravage the maiden, and still have me sobbing and whimpering under him before he was even naked. I laughed a little at the thought and he cocked his head in a gesture of animal curiosity. I caught him off guard and used a trick Cassian had taught me to throw a stronger opponent on his back, which I was surprised to find even worked while I was as weak as a human. On top of him now, with his wings flared out behind him, I licked my way down his torso. The smudged ink-coloured paint tasted sweet like berries and mingled with the salt of his sweat was heavenly. I could have licked him clean. He was swollen and straining against the fabric as I unbuckled his belt and he lifted his hips so I could pull his trousers free. He was up on his knees again before I could blink and grabbing to pull me back down on the moss, but this was my turn. I used another manoeuvre that turned the opponents strength on them to throw him back against the altar stone. It tumbled backwards, rolling free of its mooring and through the wall behind, again leaving only dust in its wake. Before he could react and push me down again, I threw myself on top of him and guided him inside me in a swift motion.   
  
He moaned and harshly positioned himself under me, meeting each motion of my hips with a thrust of his own. He was sat up facing me and our lips crashed together in a feral storm of need. We were like the waves crashing on the rocks below, and our joining was just as brutal. His hands were on my hips, forcing us impossibly closer together, like he could somehow merge us fully if he pushed hard enough, while my hands were on his neck and in his hair.  Infinite, we were infinite.  
  
I could feel that he was close to his own release. I pulled away from our kiss with a firm bite of his lower lip. He caught my gaze and bucked his hips hard, throwing me onto my back, positioned just so that he brushed against that bundle of nerves at the apex of my sex with every thrust. He was wild and unrestrained, and I could barely breathe as I broke again; moments later so did he. His roar seemed to echo through the world and shake the very world. Not the world I realised, but the decaying temple that had been our shelter. The last supporting pillars collapsed inwards and his wings jolted up to protect us from the falling debris. The magic that had inhabited him must have saved him from the brunt of it. Even as I thought that, it began to leech out of him and into the earth beneath us, more verdant and blinding than it had been before. I could see the sun beginning to rise across the sea. Rhys clutched his chest for a moment and took a deep breath, as if checking he was himself again, searching for any remnant of the unfamiliar power within him. His eyes had closed during the blinding flash, and as he opened them slowly, there was only familiar violet and stars there. 

 

He pulled back from me sharply and rose up on his knees, and for a horrible moment I worried that he didn't remember, but the I felt it down the bond... He was worried he had hurt me, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of injury. Always the mother hen.  
  
I pulled him back to me so that we sat knee to knee. "It's alright, Rhys. I'm alright. More than alright, actually." I let out a soft chuckle that I hoped might break the tension. "Can't say the same for the temple though. Hope it wasn't of any cultural significance. I only hope Cassian had as much fun wrecking that building that got him banned from the Summer Court."  
  
Rhys cast his eyes around and took in the ruins and settling dust around us, as if he had scarcely noticed that the building fell. His eyes rested back on me.   
"You have to go. Far from here. If she finds out I have a... If Amarantha finds out what you mean to me, you don't know what she will do."  
  
Even though I would wake soon, the thought of leaving him here, to go through this alone... Even if he wasn't real, he was in this moment. "Everything works out, Rhys. Your friends are well, Velaris is safe. You get to go home. Your struggle isn't over yet, but it will be soon. I see you beneath your mask - all of you, and there is no part of you I don't grow to love. Even if you can be a prick sometimes." His eyes were lined with silver, but he smiled at that. "Your story has a happy ending."  
He looked thoughtful for a moment. As if wondering whether to believe me. "Do I make you happy?" he asked hoarsely.  
"Every day." I pulled him into one last kiss as the sun rose.

 

\---  
  
Sunlight poured through the white muslin curtains and into the bedroom of the Velaris townhouse. I stretched my legs, enjoying the feeling of the soft sheets against my skin, and rolled over to where my mate would be sleeping by my side. Only he, too, was awake, watching with interest as my legs moved under the sheets.  
  
"Sleep well, Feyre darling?"  
"Mmm... Very." I pulled him into a good morning kiss, muttering a sound of protest when he broke it off.  
"I'm glad to hear it, I had some very interesting dreams myself" he drawled, sounding a little too casual.  
I schooled my face into neutrality. "Oh?  
"Indeed." He traced a finger down my side as he spoke. "Must've been inspired by some books I saw out on the table in the library yesterday. Very dry topic - Prythian rites and rituals."  
I swallowed hard. "What an unusual topic to inspire dreams".  
He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to my neck that was a little too close to the artery to be seductive. "My dear mate, have you by any chance been talking to sweet Amren about our history? Perhaps about blood sacrifices? Calanmai?"  
  
With the mating bond's link between us, this wasn't the first time we'd wandered into one another's dreams, but it was the first dream where I hadn't been aware of his presence. I had told him before that I'd been dreaming of our first meeting for weeks and that it had been driving me mad. I looked at him to gauge his reaction. He just smiled.   
"I had planned to enter your mind just long enough to break the dream out of the normal flow of memory so you could get a good night's rest at last, but curiosity got the better of me and I had to see what you were up to. I've never stayed in someone's dream for long before without their knowledge, and I didn't realise I would become the Rhys you dreamed of. After a little while, I didn't remember who I really was or why I was there... Are you upset with me? For not telling you?"  
"Don't be ridiculous." I paused for a moment. "I am curious though, did you... Feel it? The magic, I mean."  
"Oh I felt everything." He winked suggestively, which I answered with a roll of my eyes. "Yes, I felt it. I wasn't acting when you saw me... struggling with it. Wasn't acting at all, actually. I was genuinely afraid of hurting you." He went quiet, as if unsure whether I'd think he was insane if he continued. "I don't think that the magic was entirely something you imagined in your dream, Feyre."

I wasn't expecting that. "But... it's months until Calanmai." In fact, there had been snow on the ground yesterday.

"I can't explain it, just... Don't be surprised if there are consequences of your little nocturnal experiment"

"Consequences? Like what?"

Rhys was mid-shrug when we heard a loud crash and a lot of Cassian-volume swearing from downstairs. We both pulled on the minimal amount of clothing to make us decent and scrambled down to see what the commotion was... and almost stumbled over the newly trailing ivy sprawling through the ground floor and up the stairs. Ivy that Cassian had evidently tripped over.

"What in the name of the Mother's ample bosom is going on?" He was slumped in the corner, sat amid the remains of a bookcase he had fallen into, brambles sticking to his arms and wings, and Azriel was suppressing a smirk while helping him up. "It's like that green-fingered sister of yours gave the whole of fucking Velaris the makeover it never needed."

Rhys was doubled over cackling at the top of the stairs. "I think we might have an inkling," I sighed, "how bad is it?".

Azriel was the one to answer. "The Sidra is carpeted in lilies, Rita's is now a treehouse, and Amren's loft is full of butterflies. I won't repeat her reaction in polite company." He glanced between us. "Do I want to know?"

"Not really." I grimaced.

Rhys regained his poise somewhat and between wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, managed to ask "is it contained to Velaris?"

Cassian, who was on his feet now, threw a glance at Azriel. "Do you mean to say it might not be? I hate to be the one to bring this up, but if it's reached the Hewn City, and Keir wakes up in a bed of azaleas, he might want an explanation." The accompanying image Rhys sent down the bond threatened to send us both into another fit of giggles. I sent one back of Amren with a butterfly net, and that set us off.

 

Az and Cass looked at us like we had gone mad. Once we had calmed down, Azriel asked again what was going on. Rhys answered for both of us: "Magic in the air, I guess".


End file.
